


The Long Game

by emoandsadinside



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 03:12:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emoandsadinside/pseuds/emoandsadinside
Summary: jonah finally fully opens up to cyrus about what he’s been going through.





	The Long Game

**Author's Note:**

> this is a one shot i’ve had sitting unfinished in my notes forever and i didn’t have it beta read so it might suck idk lol. i wouldn’t even be able to give you an accurate time line for when this happens. just, whenever you feel like it should, it’s up for your interpretation lol. as for the panic attack part, those are all actual feelings i’ve had while actually going through one. and as for the remedy, it’s a breathing technique i picked up from one of thomas sanders videos. it’s a real technique and it works if you ever need it. and, yes, the “someday” and “long game” are lingo/script from girl meets ski lodge lol. also sorry about the nonexistenve of capital letters. i forgot to turn them on and by the time i did it was too late.

jonah’s pov

“cyrus...” i reach a hand out to grab a hold of his arm, mostly for my own stability. but he takes a step back, his face falling. i flinch at the loss of contact, but refuse to go over the edge. i take a deep breath, hoping to control my heartbeat a little bit better than i have been. when my breath is staggered though, the hope i have for acting the least bit normal decreases. this is all so new, i don’t even know how my body works anymore.

“god, this is harder than i thought.” i scrub harshly at the dark circles under my eyes with the palms of my hands, not having a clue as how to continue.

“jonah, if you’re just going to reject me-“ cyrus starts, but i don’t let him finish. 

“cyrus, this- this isn’t a rejection!” i stutter out hurriedly, trying to grasp at any coherent thought. my brain has never been so full an- and... mixed up. there’s so much i want to say, but my focus is skewed and all i can hear is the snickering of my conscious repeating over and over that i’ll lose him. that i’ll lose everyone.

instead of lashing out, which is what i expect him to do, he sits down on the bench, looking as if he’s trying to calm himself down just as much as i am. “then...” he starts carefully before turning his whole body towards me, mentally mapping out his current approach. “what is it?” i take that as an invitation to sit down, so i do. i thought i would slow down a bit once i was sitting, but the snickers haven’t stopped and my hearts still racing. i rub my hands over my jeans, looking up at him nervously. “hey,” cyrus says softly, pulling me out of my head with his calming voice. “it’s okay, just, think about what you want to say, and, not what you should or what i want to hear. what you want to say.”

i try and put on a convincing face, one that says i’m not absolutely terrified right now. i force out a laugh, though it sounds more like a whimper. “what-“

cyrus shakes his head, repeating his previous words. “what you want to say.” 

i used to be so good at this, what happened to my mask? i was so good at lying and pretending, so good at putting everyone else first. i don’t want to talk about me. “how’d you know?” i lose the mask, or what’s left of it, and crack half a smile. 

cyrus just smiles back, and without giving myself enough time to think, i grab his hand and lace our fingers together, physically relaxing from the contact. he looks surprised, but doesn’t comment on my decision. instead, he gathers himself and continues. “because i know you.” he explains, squeezing my hand the slightest bit. “and i know that... this is a side of you i’ve never seen.” he squints, almost as if he’s trying to calculate my facial expression. the mood shifts, and my heart stutters almost as bad as my mouth. 

“i know.” i bite my lip and nod, dragging my eyes up to his. there’s no point in denying how skittish i’ve been around everyone lately, how my mask has been visibly chipping away for awhile now. he squeezes my hand again, but this time, it’s reassurance to continue. “i’ve never seen it either, but i didn’t want any of you to know, because of this.” i explain, gesturing between the two of us.

he lifts a brow, seemingly confused at my confession. “because of what?” i debate between letting myself be completely vulnerable or continuing to be alone. i don’t know which i’m more afraid of. “jonah, i don’t expect you to tell me anything. i just hope you know that i want to be there.” i notice he didn’t say help. “if you want me to be.”

“do you mean that?” i blurt, internally cringing at how desperate that sounded.

“do i have to remind you that all four of my parents are therapists? you can’t say anything in either house without being completely picked apart, you say what you mean or you get caught in a lie.” i let out a breath through my nose, smiling a little at his attempt to lighten it up. cyrus is mimicking me, but i can tell he’s only smiling because i did. so many people have claimed to care about me in the past, but every word seems fake compared to when cyrus looks at me. 

“i don’t want to lose you.” i say slowly with as much confidence i can muster, avoiding cyrus’ eyes. 

to my surprise, cyrus scoffs. “jonah, i may have feelings for you, but before i even realized what those were, i wanted to know you.”

my eyes immediately switch back to their previous position, a retort already rolling off my tongue. “you wanted to know “the jonah beck”. not jonah.” we both know that’s true, it’s not like cyrus was subtle about the pedestal he put me on.

“you’re right,” my hand goes slack in his, ready to rip it away when he speaks again. “in the beginning.” he rushes, probably sensing my disappointment.

“kay?” i laugh a little rudely, a little defensively. “so this is exactly why i didn’t-“ i try and stand up, but cyrus pulls me back down.

“jonah, of course i wanted to know jonah beck in the beginning. because in the beginning you were the jonah beck™,” he struggles with finding the words. “and i was a closeted gay kid.”

“cyrus that’s not-“

“true? it was. until i realized you didn’t see it like that.” 

i raise an eyebrow, a little lost as to what he means. how did i have anything to do with what he wanted from me, what everyone wants from me. “until i didn’t see it like what?”

“until i realized that you didn’t see a closeted gay kid. you saw cyrus, and you liked cyrus, god knows why.” he chuckles, but i don’t follow suit. i squeeze his hand this time, causing him to glance down at our intertwined fingers. 

“don’t make me list off reasons why i like you. we could go all night.” i joke, but there’s only truth coming from the blur of thoughts i’m trying to sort through.

“can i?” my eyes flicker to his, a little taken aback. i’m waiting for him to say just kidding, but he doesn’t.

“didn’t you just say?“ my eyebrows knit together thoughtfully, thinking back to what he said about stereotypes.

“no, that was when i started wanting to know jonah. i started to like you because of how much you love ultimate frisbee. because you say docious magocious, which is really dumb,” he cracks a sympathetic, fond smile that clearly translates to you’re an idiot. “but it’s your word. because you’re so damn oblivious jonah, it’s frustrating!” he grins, and i laugh because well, it’s true. “because you care way more about everyone else, even when you know you’re being used.” he says, his eyes becoming sad. i look away, cocking my head to the side. i don’t want him looking at me like that. “because i want to know you more.”

i drag my teeth across my lower lip, taking a deep breath, my eyes blown wide. “you want to know me more?” i blurt, straightening myself up a little bit. 

cyrus nods with little to no emotion, no doubt bracing himself. he asked for it.

“i’m having panic attacks.” i start out strong, but once my free hand shows up to cover my eyes, my voice fades out. i still can’t say it. there’s so many emotions running through me i can’t even tell what i’m feeling, it’s all a little overwhelming. out of nowhere i suck in a staggered breath, everything becoming a little too much. before i even know what’s happening, cyrus takes the other hand from my face, gripping that one as well.

“hey, jonah,” cyrus says, a bit more firm, or maybe it’s looser? i don’t know, fear is building in my throat and i feel as if i’m about to cry, but tears never come. i gasp for air. “jonah, breathe in for four seconds. four seconds jonah, breathe in.” his voice is getting smaller as my mind is consuming me, but i obey him in attempt to grasp onto reality, breathing in for four seconds. “good, hold your breath for seven seconds. now breathe out for eight seconds. keep it up, keep going.” after i repeat the steps, i feel myself calm down little by little. after awhile, i’m pretty sure it’s safe to talk. 

“god,” i choke out, taking a swipe at the tears that actually did start to form. “saying i’m having panic attacks and then actually having one. i’m such a mess.” despite the fact that i meant it to come out as a joke, it doesn’t. it comes out exactly as it was supposed to; afraid. 

“you’re not a mess-“

“yes cyrus, i am.” i say, sliding one of my hands out of his. “and you can tell me that i’m the jonah beck™ and everyone loves me a million times, it won’t make a difference. because i’m different.” it’s out, it’s out and so am i. well, i’m not out yet, but i finally delivered a coherent thought for the first time since we’ve started the conversation.

“okay, so you’re a mess. but jonah, so am i. so is everyone. some are just better at hiding it than others.” he shrugs, referring to himself and how not chill he is most of the time. i know he meant that in a you’re not alone in this feeling kind of way, and... it actually makes me feel better to think that i’m not the only person ashamed of my flaws. 

“how does it feel knowing you’re the only one that can talk me down?” i ask after a moment, giving cyrus as much of a smile that i can handle. he blushes a bit, hiding the soft grin that forms on his lips. 

“you know...” he says, the grin disappearing as quickly as it came. “i didn’t lie when i said i’d be here for you,” his eyes flicker up to mine after being occupied by the cement. “and if that involves talking you down, or talking in general, then i’m here. but i’m also not a professional-“

“and i should think about talking to one of your parents, or, any therapist?” i huff out a breath, finishing for him. i’m just now noticing the feeling of his thumb lightly tapping on the back of my hand. i count with the consistent rhythm a few times, my brain regaining only the slightest bit more composure, but i can think straighter. “to be fair, your dad kind of already knows.” i say a little sheepishly, physically feeling my hand start to sweat.

cyrus’ full attention is on me now, worry spreading across his profile for the second time. “my dad...” i watch as he pieces it together, his eyes widening in realization. “you had one at my-“

“bar mitzvah? ya, my first one. your dad actually wanted to go and get you but... i told him not to. something about, being able to translate it?” i offer a little insight to the situation, my first time revisiting it since it happened.

“you should’ve let him.” cyrus tentatively let’s out, his voice low and fading. i can tell cyrus failed to bite his tongue on that one. i decide not to elaborate considering i’m pretty sure at this point cyrus knows i’m well aware i probably should’ve. surprisingly though, it wasn’t a why, which is what i end up answering.

“i didn’t want to be left alone.” it’s an ambiguous thing to say, but when cyrus squeezes my hand i know that’s him saying he has at least an idea of what it means.

“so it’s more than just the anxiety.” it’s not a question, it’s a statement. he swallows thickly, and i hold my breath waiting for the worry to turn into pity. when it doesn’t, when the only change is the crease in his brow, i believe him when he says he wants to be here. and i don’t technically have to reply, but i do anyway.

“ya, definitely more. more that i know i’ll have to tell a therapist, but, one step at a time? please?” i hate the blatant begging in my tone, but maybe it’s justified right now.

he nods before taking a very obvious glance at our intertwined hands. “so, about earlier...” he trails off, the conversation catching up to us.

with the help of the tapping, my continued steady breathing, and the newfound confidence cyrus has provided, i’m able to respond with a fully formed thought. “you said to say whatever i want to say,” i start, moving so i’m not fully facing him anymore. “i literally came out of a relationship with amber that i don’t even know why i was in, to a relationship with andi that i don’t even know why i was in,” i chuckle weakly, despite it not being at all funny. “i think i need to figure some stuff out before we...” i gesture with my eyebrows, making cyrus chuckle.

“does that mean... someday?” he asks, hope in his small voice. i bite my lip again, fully knowing it’ll start to bleed if i keep it up.

“i can do better than someday,” i say, a grin spreading across my face, waiting for a reply. after a few seconds, cyrus gets restless.

“well tell me! don’t just get my hopes up and then disappoint me, i’ve had too much of that.” he whines. i shove him playfully for the self deprecation, but continue.

“i’ll play the long game.” 

cyrus quirks a brow, interested. “the long game?”

“the long game. cy, i’m not oblivious enough to ignore the fact that i really can’t... do... feelings right now,” we both laugh at my choice in words. “especially when i don’t even know what liking you means for my... sexuality. we both have a lot to figure out. and besides, i wanna be the best boyfriend i can be when we date.” 

cyrus rolls his eyes, trying to hide his blush. “boyfriend? i thought you didn’t like labels?” 

“i don’t. i just know i want to be with you.” i tell him honestly.

“how do you know you’ll still like me then? what if someone better comes along?” i almost shove him again for the joke, but i stop myself. that didn’t sound like one of his self deprecating jokes. well maybe he was playing it off to but, that sounded genuine. suddenly, it dawns on me that this may be a legitimate insecurity of his. i squeeze his hand, moving closer to him. 

“i can’t believe you’re making me say this right now...” i trail off exasperatedly, slowly bringing my eyes up to his. “there is no one better. at least not for me.” 

a small smile starts to spread on cyrus face before he bursts into a fit of giggles. “hey!” i groan, embarrassed.

“i’m sorry, i just didn’t know you’d be this sentimental.” he chokes out.

“i’m emotional right now, okay! i just had a panic attack!” i defend myself, moving away from him and attempting to let go of his hand. 

“woah, hey!” he immediately stops laughing and whines at me, locking our fingers together tightly. 

“who’s sentimental now?” i laugh, giving into his whining. 

“still you.” 

“oh, i’m still sentimental?”

“yeah.”

“yeah?”

“ye-“ my free hand finds his collar and pulls his face close to mine, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“how’s that for sentimental?” i smirk, finding myself naturally slipping into the usual, comfortable attitude i have around him. 

“you’re making this whole long game thing harder, mr. how do you say docious magotious in hebrew.” he taunts me, but i’m more focused on the first part of that sentence.

“does this mean you’ll play the long game?” i ask, the hope in my voice now.

cyrus nods, giving me a lopsided smile. “we still got a lot to figure out.”


End file.
